From the Wrong Man to the Right One
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Molly has recently become engaged to Tom, and she has discovered a rather interesting fact about him, that he was a fan of Sherlock Holmes. She thinks she has moved on. But what will happen when Sherlock comes back into her life after a two year absence? Can she stay true to one man when her heart longs for another? (RoLD series, part 12) Sherlolly. Set during TEH.
1. The Wrong Man

**Special note:** Thanks as usual for my cover image goes to **Elizabeth Robello**.

* * *

Molly was sitting on the sofa with Tom at his parents house. Everyone, including his younger sisters, was watching the football game on the telly, but Molly couldn't be less interested. She tried to summon up enthusiasm for this sport, but she really didn't understand the allure of kicking a ball around a field and trying to get it into a net.

Instead she was lost in reflection as she stared at the engagement ring from Tom on her finger which she had been given two weeks earlier.

* * *

_Tom's family was all gathered around the table, along with Molly, singing happy birthday to Tom. There was a chocolate cake in front of him with three lit candles, each one representing ten years of his life._

_At the conclusion of the singing, Tom's mother said, "Make a wish, Tom."_

_To Molly's utter astonishment, instead of closing his eyes to make a wish to himself before blowing out the candles, he looked directly at her and said, "I wish…that Molly Hooper would marry me." Then he bent down, blew out the candles and smiled._

_He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring as his parents and sisters looked at her expectantly. This was apparently no surprise to them, and Molly realised that Tom had obviously bought the ring from his family's jewellery store where he worked. Therefore it made sense that they would have known about it._

_She hadn't been expecting a proposal from him at all. Yes, they had been going out for about five months, but most of the time she only saw him on weekends when they usually went to the pub. He would have his beers with his friends and she would sometimes have one drink, then switch to non-alcoholic ones. In fact, sometimes she felt a little like an appendage to Tom, someone he liked having around him so he could sling his arm around her casually and introduce her as his girlfriend. Yes, a few weeks earlier he had told her he loved her and she had hesitantly said the words back to him. But she didn't feel any real passion for him. He obviously felt it for her, in the way he kept hinting that he would like to sleep with her, but she flatly refused to allow him to stay overnight at her flat. In fact, she usually insisted that they go back to his place because she knew he wouldn't try anything with his parents around._

_She blinked, feeling rather overwhelmed and put on the spot. Taking a deep breath, she uttered the fateful words, "Yes, I'll marry you, Tom."_

_Tom walked to her, placed the slightly too large ring on her finger and spun her around, kissing her as his family gathered around to offer their congratulations._

_Later that night, he offered to drive her home and she accepted. Of course, she invited him in for the obligatory cup of tea._

_"You know, Molly," Tom said, walking to stand behind her as she placed their finished cups in the sink, "I'm not working tomorrow." He placed his arms around her from behind. "I could, you know, stay over tonight. We are engaged now."_

_Molly twisted in his embrace to look at him. "Tom, why do you think being engaged is going to make me change my views on abstinence before marriage?"_

_He frowned. "I know you've told me about your religious beliefs, but surely you understand that I'm serious about you? Why do we have to wait until the wedding night?" He moved his hands up and down her back as he said the words._

_Molly felt her colour heighten and her heartbeat accelerate a little, not from passion, but from dread. She hated confrontation. She didn't like it when Tom acted this way. She should have just taken a taxi home. "If I'm worth marrying, I'm worth waiting for." She put her hands against his chest to push him away._

_He released his grip on her and pouted. "Come on, Molls. It's my birthday. Don't I deserve something special from you?" How she hated being called Molls._

_She glared at him. "Not __**that**_ _special, Tom. My virginity is a gift I can only give once, and I'm afraid that your birthday is not the day on which it is going to be given. It isn't as if you can give me the same gift now, is it?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow._

_This time it was Tom's turn to flush. "Molls, guys typically sleep with their girlfriends. That's real life. Sex feels great and I know once you've tried it, you'll want to keep going with it. I've asked you to marry me, what more do you want?"_

_Her lips tightened and she folded her arms defensively. "Respect, Tom. You may not have the same beliefs as me, but if we are to be married, you're going to have to respect them." She almost wished he would tell her the engagement was off right then, but he didn't._

_Instead, he backed down. "Sorry, Molls. It's just, well, you drive me crazy. I want you so much. I'll try to respect your beliefs, okay?"_

_She blew out a deep breath. "Alright. You should probably get going now, anyway."_

_She allowed him one last kiss before he left, a man obviously disappointed that his birthday had not turned out quite the way he'd hoped. He'd gained a fiancée, but not a lover._

* * *

Molly's head snapped up and she was called out of her reverie by the sound of a name being spoken on the telly - a name she had not heard spoken in almost two years.

"...Sherlock Holmes was vindicated and cleared of all suspicion..." a reporter was saying in a special breaking news report.

_Oh, thank God, at last people now know the truth, that he wasn't a fraud at all, _she thought, suddenly wondering to herself if he was still even alive. When he had stayed with her briefly in secret while his "funeral" was being arranged, he had told her Mycroft was sending him on a mission to dismantle the insidious tentacles of Moriarty's network. Her mind drifted again, this time to one of their final conversations.

* * *

"_Do you think you'll ever come back to London, Sherlock?" she asked, biting her lip. The thought of never seeing him again was agony, even though he had no idea of how strongly she felt about him. The only small memories that she had to treasure of him were a kiss on the cheek at Christmas the previous year, and a fleeting brush of his lips against hers after he had requested her help. Both had seared her soul and left her wanting more._

_"I don't know, Molly." His eyes looked bleak, haunted. "Dismantling Moriarty's network could take years, and it will certainly be dangerous. I have escaped death once, but I may not be able to elude it again." Her heart sank at his words. After all their efforts, he could still die. He continued. "Even if I am successful, I would not be able to return while people still consider me to be a fraud."_

_"I don't suppose there's any way we will be able to keep in contact?" she asked, even knowing what his answer would be._

_He touched her arm lightly. "I wish that were possible, but Mycroft would never allow it. I must remain isolated from everyone I have ever known here in order to keep my mission top secret. I'm only even telling you this because you helped me." His lips twisted slightly. "If my brother knew I'd revealed even this much to you, he'd be very angry."_

_Tears trembled on her lashes, and he looked at her kindly, fondly even. "Perhaps one day I'll come back and surprise you." He gently wiped away a tear that escaped._

_"I hope so, Sherlock."_

* * *

Again, Molly's musings were interrupted by her fiancé saying in an exultant voice, "Told you he wasn't a fraud, Mum."

Molly stared at Tom in surprise, even as his mother said, "Next thing you'll be insisting again that he isn't dead. That silly Empty Coffin club has filled your head with nonsense."

Tom folded his arms and looked over at his mother crossly. "It's not nonsense, Mum, and it's the Empty Hearse club, not the Empty Coffin club! He definitely faked his death somehow. No way would he have been the type to commit suicide."

"I know you admired him, son, but faking his death is a rather preposterous notion. Perhaps he suffered from depression and those news reports drove him to it," suggested Tom's father.

Molly listened silently to the conversations swirling about her. She was still trying to process the fact that Tom was some sort of fan of Sherlock's, let alone the fact that the detective had been exonerated after so long.

Tom's sister, Melissa, giggled. "I still can't get over the fact that you went out and bought a coat and scarf like his and started styling your hair the same way after he died. You're such a fanboy," she teased.

Tom flushed. "Shut up, Melissa. Just because I admired the man, doesn't mean I'm some stupid fanboy," he defended himself hotly. "I happen to like his sense of style, that's all."

_Oh my gosh, _thought Molly to herself, _the only reason Tom and I even met is because I was staring at him from behind, thinking he was Sherlock because of the curly hair and coat._

Molly felt Tom's arm slide around her shoulder and he squeezed. "Anyway," he continued to his sister, "If I really wanted to be like Sherlock Holmes, I wouldn't have a girlfriend, I mean _fiancée _now, would I? I might have admired him, still admire him, but that man was a loner, for sure. Either that, or that flatmate of his was his secret boyfriend."

Molly felt like snapping at Tom that Sherlock was _not_ gay, or at least she didn't think he was. She could have sworn he felt something too when their lips had met that one time in the lab, brief though it had been. John certainly wasn't gay - she'd met a couple of his girlfriends after all, but she remained silent. Revealing that information would also have meant revealing her connection to them which might bring up awkward questions, so she just gave her fiancé a tight-lipped smile.

Fortunately the breaking news broadcast finished and the football resumed, so conversation on that topic ceased.

Molly didn't think much more of it until a week or so later.

She had just opened the door of her locker to put away her lab coat after a busy shift had ended, when she caught sight in the mirror of the last person she had expected to see.

Sherlock was back.

She whirled around and stared at him for a few seconds, drinking in the sight of that familiar figure she had desperately missed for so long - the curls, similar to Tom's, but much softer looking, the aristocratic features and high cheekbones with the less square jaw than Tom's, the full sensual lips with a split across it which showed he had been in a recent altercation. He was such a sight for sore eyes, absolutely beautiful. Her mouth ran dry and she was unable to speak, but fortunately he spoke first.

"I told you I might come back one day and surprise you. It appears I succeeded," he told her, smiling slightly.

Finally she found her voice and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Sherlock!" She rested her face against his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating, proving he was alive and not some kind of mirage conjured up by her fertile imagination. He was so real, and she felt his own arms come around her. He felt so good and he smelled the way she remembered. Her senses reeled and sharpened acutely as she breathed in the unique scent of Sherlock Holmes.

"I missed you too," he finally said as his hold on her relaxed and she realised she had probably been hugging him for much longer than was necessary.

She pulled back to look up at him. How she had missed those intense changeable eyes of his. "Did you come back because your name was cleared?"

His lips quirked. "That was merely a case of good timing. My mission has been successfully completed, and I have a new one in London for which Mycroft has requested my help. However, I have not yet publicly revealed that I am alive." He smiled again, then winced a little as it strained his split lip. "Although the one other person to whom I revealed myself was not too happy about me playing dead for two years."

"John?" She stepped back a pace from Sherlock to view that poor lip of his properly. Even with that split lip, he still looked incredibly hot, she thought, then berated herself for thinking such a thing. Should she tell him she was engaged? She wasn't wearing her ring because it needed to be resized and it would also catch on her latex gloves. But she didn't get the chance to say anything about it.

He nodded. "Look, Molly, I need to go now and let Lestrade know I'm available for consultation once again and after that I need to see if I can reclaim my flat."

"I hope Greg doesn't give you a black eye to go along with that split lip," remarked Molly with a grin.

"Greg who?" asked Sherlock and Molly rolled her eyes. Same old Sherlock.

"You really need to learn it is Greg Lestrade, not Geoff or Graham or whatever other nonsense you come up with."

Sherlock looked chastened. "At least I never forget _your_ name, Molly Hooper," he said, and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips.

It was so good to have him back, no, not good, it was _wonderful_. She smiled as he put on a beanie and dark sunglasses so he could remain incognito for now. "I'll see you soon," he promised, squeezing her hand in farewell.

She watched him leave and tried to tell her heartbeat to slow down as she observed his confident stride along the corridor towards the lift. _He'd be more incognito without his trademark coat,_ she thought idly, nonetheless enjoying the familiar sight once again. How she'd missed seeing him swooping into the lab or mortuary, coat flapping about him as he did so.

Over the next couple of days, Molly turned on the telly as soon as she got home for work to make sure she did not miss the news. Two days later Molly watched London blow up with headlines in the newspapers, on the telly and all over social media. Sherlock Holmes was alive and well. There was plenty of intense speculation about how he had managed to fake his death, but nobody was getting any answers. Molly knew it wouldn't be long before people got bored with trying to figure it out and moved onto the next thing. She was bemused though to hear that everyone seemed to have always believed in him and his innocence, and they were all relieved he was alive after all. That had certainly not been the case at the time. Amazing how selective the memory could be when someone didn't wish to confront the fact they had erred in their assumption of his guilt.

The following day, Molly was eating a quiet lunch at her flat when she received a text out of the blue from Sherlock.

_I have a proposal for you. Would you come and see me at Baker Street as soon as possible? I know it's your day off. I checked._

_If only it were a proposal of the romantic kind, _she thought dreamily, then caught herself. _What the hell are you thinking, Molly Hooper? _she told herself sternly. _For one thing, you know Sherlock isn't a sentimental man, and for another, you're an engaged woman!_

She almost told him she wasn't available, that she had plans with her fiancé, so that Sherlock would know she had moved on from him, but her curiosity about why what he wanted to see her won out.

_I'll tell him about Tom once I get there, _she reasoned to herself then sent off a text.

_I can be there in about forty-five minutes._

_Outer door will be unlocked for you. Come right up,_ was his response.

Molly felt a tingle of nervous anticipation, and ten minutes later she was on her way to 221B Baker Street for the first time in over two years.

* * *

**Author's note:** I kind of feel like a lot of this dream of Molly's reflects some of her true history with Tom, at least in my personal canon - like the birthday proposal and Tom's actions at her flat afterwards, and her memory of talking with Sherlock before he left London. The only thing that wouldn't be a true memory is her discovering that Tom was part of Anderson's The Empty Hearse club as this only came out in another of my real stories - _The Case of the Pen Pilferer._

What do you think about the idea of Tom being a fan of Sherlock Holmes and wanting to be like him? Personally, I think it makes sense.

Some of my regular readers will know I portray Molly as a Christian who believes in abstinence before marriage. I know it's not a particularly popular idea, and that definitely means I have far fewer readers than the majority of Sherlolly writers, but I feel I must say to anyone reading this, whether they have religious convictions or not - you should _never_ feel pressured into having sex if you are not ready for it. Please think carefully before you jump into that next step, it's a big one. I've heard of too many instances where young women especially end up sleeping with their boyfriends just because he wants it. Respect your body, respect yourself. If your partner respects you, he will not pressure you into something you are not ready for. If he does not respect that, perhaps you need to seriously consider whether he's the right person for you.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Molly's past history with Tom. I don't suppose it is a topic that comes up in a lot of stories.

Your response always appreciated.


	2. No Man

Molly stepped just inside the open door of 221B. Sherlock was not looking her way; instead, he was staring out the window.

"You wanted to see me?" she ventured hesitantly.

Sherlock turned towards her then and she couldn't help wondering how a man could look so handsome in a suit covered by a dressing gown.

She flushed with embarrassment when the words "Have dinner?" popped out of her mouth as he was only asking her to solve crimes.

It turned out that the proposal he had for her was to act as his assistant for the day. Apparently he and John were still not on speaking terms. She jumped at the chance. Perhaps spending time with Sherlock would remind her of the abrasive way he usually acted towards other people, and reassure her that her life would be much more settled with a man like Tom. Of course, it wasn't as if Sherlock was interested in anything more with her anyway, was it? So even entertaining thoughts of that was ridiculous.

Molly settled into a chair, ready to take notes.

She wasn't surprised by the quick and dismissive way Sherlock handled the first case of the cheating spouse. What did surprise her though, was the kindness he exhibited towards a young woman whose online penpal had disappeared on her unexpectedly. She had never seen Sherlock behave so sensitively with someone, and her heart constricted.

It was when he said sympathetically to the woman, holding her hand, "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?" and looked over at Molly, that she knew.

It didn't matter whether Sherlock would ever want anything more than friendship with her. The simple truth of the matter was that she still loved him, _he _was the love of her life, not Tom.

Even as Sherlock walked up to Molly to explain quietly that the stepfather was the phantom online boyfriend who wished to break the young woman's heart so that she would swear off men forever and stay at home to bring in a wage, Molly curled the fingers of her right hand over her engagement ring. She had to let Tom know as soon as possible that the engagement was off. It wouldn't be fair to prolong it, knowing that she was in love with someone else.

Once the clients were gone, Sherlock picked up his phone to read and respond to a text that had come in earlier. Molly took this opportunity to send a text of her own to Tom. She considered breaking up with him over text, but thought that would be too cruel, especially in light of the fact they had been together for several months already. He deserved better than that.

_Tom, there's something important I need to discuss with you tonight. Can you come over at seven?_

She figured that should be enough time for her to finish this day with Sherlock and get home. She didn't hear back immediately from Tom, so presumably he was working in his dad's shop as usual and was too busy to check his phone.

Sherlock finished what he was doing on his phone and looked over at her. "Lestrade has a case for me, then I need to return a hat to a client who left it by accident at Mrs. Hudson's this morning when I was out. Apparently he has some urgent case he wants me to look into as well. Do you have time to come along?"

"Of course," Molly responded. She would take every precious moment she could get with him.

While Sherlock was picking up the funny hat with bobbles on the sides, Molly made a decision. She took off her engagement ring and put it in her trouser pocket. There was no point in wearing it when she knew she would be returning it to Tom. It might not be official yet, but in her heart, the engagement was already over and the implied promise of the ring no longer applied.

There was something freeing about no longer wearing that ring, being able to finally allow herself to feel once again the deep love she felt for the man whom she was accompanying. They really did work well together, even saying a phrase together when investigating what turned out to be a Jack the Ripper hoax.

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought Sherlock was trying to impress not only Greg, but herself as well.

Molly's phone buzzed as she was about to leave the building. She quickly read Tom's text that he would see her at seven, then pocketed the phone again and headed back upstairs to the street to join Sherlock. Greg headed back off to New Scotland Yard, seeming most put out over the wasted time on a hoax.

Molly's favourite part of the day was the trip to the flat of the train enthusiast, to whom Sherlock was returning that bobble hat. She felt as though she and Sherlock were sharing an inside joke as Sherlock made asides to her. It was like being part of Sherlock Holmes's inner sanctum in a way she had never been before, and she enjoyed it immensely.

When Sherlock invited Molly to get some chips with him, her heart thundered in her chest. She knew she couldn't accept, she had to go home and get ready for her meeting withTom, but she wanted to see what Sherlock's motives were for inviting her over to spend the day with him. There had to be more to it than her acting as a replacement for John. And she was right.

"Sherlock, what was today about?"

"Saying thank you," he told her as she moved down the stairs toward where he stood at the bottom.

"For what?" she questioned. She hadn't really helped that much, taken a few notes, made a few observations. She was surprised at his response.

"For everything you did for me."

She felt shy all of a sudden. This was not at all what she had been expecting him to say because she knew he was talking about two years earlier. "It's okay It was my pleasure," she said automatically, as she reached the ground floor and moved past him.

His voice arrested her movement and she turned towards him. "No, I mean it."

"I don't mean pleasure, I mean I didn't mind, I wanted to." She felt suddenly very flustered. Sherlock was giving her a very intense look and he interrupted her before she had even finished speaking.

"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."

Her heart thudded in her chest. Was he expressing interest in her or not?

Then he took a deep breath and seemed to return to the way he usually was with her, friendly but not overly so. "So, did you want to join me for chips or not?"

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have something rather important to take care of this evening," she said, and saw the disappointment in her own eyes reflected in his.

He gave her a gentle smile and surprisingly bent to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips, wishing she dared to move her head slightly so their lips could meet, but of course she didn't.

"I'll see you later then, Molly Hooper," he murmured, exiting the building before she even knew what was happening.

She exited as well and watched him walk away down the street without a backwards glance, then headed back to her flat.

As soon as Molly arrived home, she prepared a quick meal, ate it and then waited for Tom's arrival. Her stomach felt twisted in knots. How did you go about telling someone you no longer wanted to marry them?

As usual, Tom was late. Punctuality was not one of his strong suits and she had learned over the past several months that when they made a time to meet, it generally meant he would be 10 to 15 minutes late. He drove his parents' car, but would never take into account potential traffic conditions or difficulties in finding a parking spot. Finally, at seven-fifteen, the doorbell rang.

Come in, Tom," she invited, turning her face slightly so the kiss he planned to put on her lips as he entered missed and hit the corner of her mouth instead.

He hung up his coat, the one that looked eerily similar to Sherlock's, and turned to look at her. "So, Molls, what's so important that you want to see me in the middle of the week?" he asked curiously. "Did you want to start making plans for the wedding?"

Molly bit her lip. This was not going to be easy. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, and he walked over to the sofa. She thought about offering him a cup of tea, but decided prolonging things would just make it worse. Instead she sat in her yellow armchair to look at him, rather than sit beside him.

She twisted her fingers together nervously. "Tom, I-"

Tom's gaze narrowed suddenly as his eyes alighted on her hands. "Did you lose your engagement ring?"

Molly swallowed, then reached into her pocket and withdrew the ring. "No, Tom. I took it off." She held it towards him. "I've decided things aren't going to work between us," she said, and her voice trembled slightly.

Tom gave her a shocked look. "What do you mean, things aren't going to work out between us? Is it because you thought I was pressuring you to have sex? I promise I'll do better, I'll wait as long as you want." She could hear the earnest note in his voice and felt even worse than she had before. He really was making an effort to respect her wishes.

Molly felt tears prick her eyes. "No, Tom, it's not that at all," she told him gently. "I have to be honest with you. I...I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved because there's someone else who recently came back into my life unexpectedly. I didn't think I'd ever see him again and I thought I was ready to move on with you, but now that he's back, I realised I'm still in love with him."

She hung her head guiltily even as Tom took the ring from her and buried his face in his hands. His voice was muffled as he said in a disconsolate tone, "What are my parents going to say, my sisters?" He raised his head and leaned forward. "They really like you Molly. How am I going to explain to them that you aren't going to be a part of our family anymore?"

A tear spilled from Molly's lashes. "I'm so sorry. If it would make you feel better, you can tell them you were the one who changed your mind, that you realised we didn't really have anything in common." Her lips quirked slightly. "It wouldn't be a lie, after all. We have very different careers."

Tom stood then and pocketed the ring. "Well, I guess there's nothing else to say. Whoever this guy is, he's a lucky man."

Molly stood as well. "It isn't like that, Tom. He isn't aware of my feelings for him, but I can't deny they exist. I hope you'll find someone who will love you as you deserve to be loved." A few more tears escaped down her face.

Tom gave her a short, sorrowful nod. She almost wished he had been more angry with her. This acceptance made her feel even more guilty.

Tom was just putting on his coat to leave when a knock sounded at Molly's door.

She opened it, swiping at the tears on her face and nearly gasped with astonishment when she saw who was standing there. It was Sherlock.

He looked decidedly the worse for wear, he smelled of smoke and his coat looked slightly singed. "Molly, I need to speak with you," he burst out, pushing past her into the flat then stopping short.

Molly watched as the two men came face-to-face. Sherlock cast a sweeping glance at Tom from head to foot, while Tom merely looked awestruck.

"Oh my God, you're Sherlock Holmes," he gasped as Sherlock gave him a decidedly condescending stare.

"That would be me," he returned, "and who would you happen to be? And why are you in Molly's flat?"

Molly stared in fascinated horror at the man she loved and the one with whom she had just ended her engagement.

"I'm Tom, Molly's fiancé," here he looked at Molly, "or rather, I _was _her fiancé until a few minutes ago." He furrowed his brow slightly in confusion. "Molly, you never told me you knew Sherlock Holmes, even though you knew I was a fan of his."

"Er," Molly said, clasping her hands in front of her tightly, "I didn't think it was important."

"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged, Molly?" questioned Sherlock with a slight frown, even as Tom's eyes widened.

"Oh, my God, this is the guy you were telling me about, Molly, isn't it?" Tom asked simultaneously, with a rare flash of insight.

Molly didn't know who to answer first. Both men were staring at her. She gulped. "I…don't know what you're talking about, Tom. You should leave now," she told him desperately, ushering him to the door, even as Sherlock watched her progress.

She breathed a sigh of relief after she closed the door on a still rather confused-looking Tom, leaning back against it.

She looked over at Sherlock whose arms were folded. "So what brings you here? And what happened to you? You smell of smoke."

"You didn't answer my question, Molly," he countered. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?"

She drew her brows together. What difference did it make to him anyway? "Well, I'm not engaged anymore, and I hardly think it is any of your business, Sherlock. You were gone for two years. People move on."

His lips compressed in a thin line. "I would not have asked you to spend this afternoon together if I had known you were engaged to someone else. I certainly would not be happy if _my _fiancée was spending time with another man." He looked at her accusingly.

Molly blushed. "Well, the point is moot now, isn't it? I'm not engaged anymore," she shot back defensively, feeling her eyes fill with tears again. Why was he being so cruel to her?

Sherlock blew out a long breath and unfolded his arms so he could clasp them behind his back instead. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll leave now so you can deal with your break up."

Molly walked closer to him and looked up at him imploringly. "Please don't do that. You said you needed to see me, and you still haven't told me what happened to you, why you smell like smoke." Suddenly she hit upon an idea. "Why don't you take a shower and clean yourself up? I still have some clothes from when you were staying here before the funeral."

He hesitated.

"Please?" she pleaded and he relented.

"Very well. I do feel rather…smoked," he admitted with a wry smile.

Molly took Sherlock's coat and scarf from him and hung them on the coat rack. They would definitely need to be dry cleaned. It was just as well there was Still a spare coat hanging in her wardrobe as well from those few days he had stayed with her. She fetched a towel and change of clothes for him, wondering what on earth had caused him to be in this state in the space of a couple of hours.

Sherlock took the items from her with a mumbled, "Thanks," and headed off to the bathroom.

Molly sat on the sofa with her hands folded in her lap, awaiting his return.

When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, Molly couldn't help the way her heartbeat quickened. He was so incredibly beautiful, especially with wet hair and his curls tumbling over his forehead. How she longed to trail her hands through them, to admit how desperately she loved him, but of course she didn't. Instead she patted the seat next to her. "Why don't you tell me now what happened this evening?"

Sherlock nodded and placed his pile of dirty clothes onto the floor beneath where his smoky coat hung. Then he moved to sit beside her. He shifted slightly to face her, and their knees brushed together.

"After I got home with my dinner, I had a visit from John's fiancée."

Molly furrowed her brow. "John's fiancée? I had no idea."

Sherlock's lips twisted slightly. "Apparently you've both been busy moving on with your lives since I've been gone."

She pressed her lips together but did not speak, waiting for Sherlock to continue.

"Anyway," he continued. "Mary, the fiancée, came by with her knickers in a twist. She had received a text and I deduced it was a code to save John Watson, and it gave the address as Saint James the Less."

"That church is in Westminster isn't it?" questioned Molly.

"Yes, it's about twenty minutes by car. I felt the need for urgency, so had to employ creative methods in which to get there."

"Creative methods?"

Sherlock's lips quirked. "I had to borrow a motorcycle and find some alternate routes that were not quite legal to reach John. Mary kept getting taunting texts, so I knew there was imminent danger. Anyway, when I arrived at the church, I saw a bonfire had been lit, and by the tone of the texts I deduced that John was inside it."

Molly gasped. "That's terrible, Sherlock! Who would do something like that?"

He huffed out a breath. "I don't know, Molly. I don't like not knowing. However, that is beside the point right now. Long story short, I managed to pull John out from inside the woodpile of the fire before it got to him."

"Is he okay? Where is he now?" asked Molly in concern.

"He'll be fine. A little smoke inhalation, that's all. Mary took him home."

Molly let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. How about you though? Are you okay? She looked at Sherlock carefully. Thankfully he seemed none the worse for wear.

Sherlock smiled. "There are definite advantages to wearing a woollen coat. Flame retardant, you know." Here his lips curved upward slightly. "Although my gloves may not be the same. They did protect my hands, however." Molly didn't see his gloves, they were probably in the pockets of his coat.

"I'm glad things turned out okay for both of you." She touched his knee gently and Sherlock stiffened.

"Well, I had best be going. Thanks for letting me use your shower," he said, rising abruptly from the sofa. Molly couldn't help feeling unaccountably disappointed.

"Was that…was that the only reason you came over? To tell me about what had happened this evening?"

Sherlock picked up his spare coat which she had laid over the armchair for him and put it on. He didn't look at her as he spoke. "Please don't ask me. Anyway, the reason no longer exists. Take care, Molly." He reached down and picked up his dirty clothes, then took his scarf and coat from the rack.

"Goodbye, Sherlock," she said quietly as she opened the door for him and he passed through it, taking the short path to the street. Whatever she had expected from Sherlock when he found out she had been engaged, and that she had broken it off, it was not this. For a moment she had dared to hope that his bewilderment about her engagement had meant he cared about her as more than a friend.

Apparently she'd been wrong.

She watched silently as Sherlock lifted a hand outside to call for a taxi, flagging one down almost immediately as usual.

And that night she went to bed and cried, not for her broken engagement, but for her broken heart.

* * *

**Author's note:** So, Molly has done the right thing and broken off her engagement earlier rather than later. As far as I am concerned she should have done it at this point in the series as well.

I kind of liked the idea of showing Sherlock coming to see her after the bonfire - hey, it could have happened, couldn't it?

So, what do you think was the other reason that "no longer exists" is, for Sherlock coming to see Molly after what happened to John. Hint: that line is from _The Sound if Music _and is used by Maria. If you are familiar with the musical you will know what the reason is/was, so come on, have a guess and tell me whether you have seen _The Sound of Music_ and therefore have the "inside scoop".

How do you see the final chapter playing out?


	3. The Right Man

The following day, Molly spent a dreary day at work, trying to concentrate on the tasks at hand rather than the fact that her heart was aching. Several times she wondered whether she had made a mistake in breaking off her engagement to Tom. She could have had a stable family life with him, children even. But each time her thoughts went in that direction, she had to tell herself she had done the right thing, for Tom's sake as well as her own. Nobody should have to be a second choice.

Now the years stretched ahead of her, promising nothing but loneliness. Perhaps it was time to buy another cat to keep her company, she thought, as she arrived home after work.

It was with some surprise that she received a text from John out of the blue the next morning. She hadn't heard from him since Sherlock's "funeral" two years earlier. He had been grieving the loss of his friend, and she had not wanted to spend time with him, in case she would have been tempted to disclose the truth about Sherlock still being alive.

His text explained that he knew she had helped Sherlock fake his death and understood now why they had not stayed in touch. He had no hard feelings about it. He also mentioned that he and Sherlock were now friends again and that they had just completed a case where Sherlock had prevented a terrorist plot to blow up the Palace of Westminster. Parliament had been in session the previous evening to vote on a new anti-terrorism Bill. It was a lengthy text, and Molly's mouth opened in astonishment when she read the last section of it.

_Anyway, I was thinking it might be nice to have a little celebration at Baker Street this afternoon at three o'clock. Sherlock mentioned you were with him a couple days ago visiting a fellow about a man who disappeared from a train carriage. Anyway, that case ended up being what led to him figuring things out about the impending underground terrorist attack. It will be a double celebration because I have just become engaged. Sherlock told me you have just suffered a broken engagement, and I am sorry for that. Perhaps spending some time with friends will ease your heartache. Hope you can make it._

Molly stared at her phone for a few seconds after she had finished reading. John's words had been rather strange - "_suffered a broken engagement; ease your heartache" - _it appeared as though Sherlock had told him she was the one who had been rejected. She supposed she'd have to set Sherlock straight on that, and it would actually be nice to see John again after so long. She thought quickly and sent off a response.

_Congratulations on your engagement. It will be lovely to see you again and meet your fiancée. I'll see you this afternoon._

His response came back soon afterwards.

_So glad you can come. Mrs. Hudson will be there too, so I'll let her know she should leave the front door open and you can just come on up._

Molly spent the next few hours in nervous anticipation. She changed her clothes twice, trying to decide on an ensemble that was not too casual, yet not too formal either. Finally, she looked in the mirror at her appearance. The pink dress looked rather nice, she thought, and she had left her hair down as well. It was always a pleasant change to do that when she didn't have to work.

She headed over to Baker Street, but the taxi had to drop her a little way away from the flat because there were reporters all along the block, apparently waiting for an interview, so she arrived a few minutes past three o'clock.

The door was open as promised, and Molly climbed the stairs to 221B. She opened the door and found Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John, and a woman she did not know who must be his fiancée, Mary. Sherlock was standing at the window, looking out.

"Hello everyone," she said, smiling at the small assembly. It was good to see them again after so long.

She was a little disappointed that Sherlock barely spared her a glance as he said, "Ready?" to John after he turned around, and they walked downstairs, presumably to deal with the reporters.

Molly accepted a glass of champagne from Greg Lestrade and took a seat on the sofa. She joined in the conversation Mrs. Hudson and Mary were having about wedding plans. If things had been different, she would have been talking about her own wedding, she reflected. Mary seemed very nice, and Molly was glad that John had found someone with whom to share his life. She wondered how Sherlock felt about that, if he'd be lonely now that he no longer had a flatmate. Then she thought even if that were the case, Sherlock would never say so aloud. He was not one to discuss his emotions. The closest she had come to knowing how he felt was the night in the lab when he had requested her help, where he had said he was not okay. Or perhaps it was when he had told her she mattered the most to him; that had been a rather out-of-character admission.

When Sherlock and John returned upstairs a few minutes later, Molly looked up. Her gaze locked with Sherlock's for a moment, but then he looked away and seated himself in his chair, as far away from her as possible. He obviously did not wish to speak with her and she had to blink away the sudden tears that blurred her vision. Instead, she concentrated on enthusiastically discussing how spring was the perfect time of year for a wedding.

Eventually John insisted that Sherlock recount the details of what had happened the previous evening. It amazed Molly how Sherlock had not only deduced things and solved the case of the disappearing man, but had also saved the lives of hundreds of people.

John and Mary were the first ones to stand up to leave. John explained they had dinner reservations. That seemed to be the cue for everyone, as Mrs. Hudson and Greg stood as well.

"Can I get a taxi for you, Molly?" asked Greg from the doorway. Molly bit her lip. She felt very uncomfortable with the way things were between Sherlock and herself, and she wanted to at least make sure he knew she had broken off her engagement with Tom rather than the other way around.

"Thanks for the offer, but you go ahead, Greg. There's something I wanted to speak to Sherlock about first."

He gave her a curious look, but nodded. He left, following the recently departed John, Mary and Mrs. Hudson.

Now, Molly was alone in the flat with Sherlock, who had once again been standing at the window.

As the door closed behind Greg, Sherlock turned. "Why are you still here, Molly?" he asked, and his voice was cold, remote, even as his expression was one of aloofness.

Molly blushed and twisted her fingers together nervously, but decided to go on the offensive with him. "Why do you think Tom broke off our engagement, instead of me?"

He looked a little surprised at that. "When I arrived at your flat, I saw you had been crying. I perceived that your fiancé was not happy about you spending the day with another man, and thus ended your engagement." His brows drew together slightly. "Was I in error?"

Molly took a step towards him. "Yes, Sherlock, you were. I'm the one who ended things with Tom. The reason I was crying was because I knew I was hurting him, not because he was hurting me."

Sherlock blinked, as if he were trying to process this new information. "You… ended it?"

Molly let out a slow breath. "Yes, Sherlock. That's what I just said, didn't I? I just didn't want you to labour under the misapprehension that it was he who broke it off."

"Such a formal way of speaking, Molly," he noted, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "You sound positively Victorian."

Molly flushed. "I read a lot of romance novels from that era," she mumbled, blushing. Then she frowned a little. "You speak that way all the time yourself, did you know that?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "I do? I suppose I never really considered that. I guess I do prefer the more formal type of speech myself, it's more elegant than the colloquial nonsense that seems to proliferate the English language so much these days. Snogging, shagging, such crude terms. All these modern words have turned our language into an imitation of the way it used to be."

"I...like the way you talk, Sherlock," she ventured shyly, wondering if he would make a comment on her earlier words about ending things with Tom. She waited a few moments. Apparently not; his eyes seemed slightly unfocussed, and she supposed he was thinking about his next case or something like it.

Finally she had to end the silence between them. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know what happened between Tom and me. I guess I'll see you later." She turned away, feeling tears form in her eyes again as she walked towards the door.

His quiet voice arrested her progress. "Wait, Molly. Don't go."

She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the threatening tears, then turned back towards him. "Why?"

This time it was his turn to step towards her. "This changes things, Molly."

Suddenly he was right there in front of her taking her hand and she looked up at him. There was an expression on his face she hadn't seen before, a look in his eyes that suddenly sparked hope within her.

"Tell me what caused you to end your engagement, Molly." His turquoise eyes bored into hers with an enthralling intensity that matched the sound of his voice.

And Molly couldn't keep it in anymore. It was as if a dam had burst within her and she had to tell him the truth. "Well, you can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else, can you?"

Her gaze dropped, and his one hand tightened on hers while his other reached to lift her chin upwards. His expression was infinitely tender. "Are you in love with _me_, Molly?"

"Yes," she whispered. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest as his hands dropped to pull her close and his lips descended on hers. She closed her eyes and drank in the wonder of it. His lips were uncertain at first, as if it was something he was not familiar with, but as she responded and reached her arms up to curl them around his neck, he seemed to gain confidence, kissing her with more intensity.

Their kiss seemed endless, and she luxuriated in it. Here she felt the passion which had been lacking with Tom, the intoxication of an all-consuming love she felt for this man.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Sherlock raised his head. He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek gently, wiping away tears of happiness she did not know she had even shed.

"My Molly, my love," he said, and there was a caressing note in his voice to which she responded.

"You love me too?" She couldn't help asking, feeling the need for reassurance.

He let out a short huff of laughter and took her hand, leading her to his chair. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. "Let me explain when I realised I was in love with you." She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling him stroke her hair, and waited expectantly.

She felt the vibration of his voice through his chest as he spoke. "Following our afternoon together, I perceived that I had developed strong feelings of attraction for you. There seemed to be some sort of connection between us that I hadn't noticed before."

"I felt it too." She reached a hand to link her fingers with his.

She felt him kiss her hair before continuing. "Anyway, after I dragged John out of that bonfire, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and the way I would have felt if it had been you in that bonfire. I thought about how much you've done for me over the years, how I've trusted you, how I couldn't imagine my life without you. And that's when I realised what I felt was more than mere attraction, it was love." His voice held a wondering note in it, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. "So, I went to your flat to see if you reciprocated my affections."

He paused and his hand tightened on hers almost painfully until she squeaked and he relaxed his grasp again. "Sorry, love. Anyway, when I got there and saw you had been crying and found out that you had just broken off your engagement with that rather pale imitation of me," here she made a sound of amusement, "I thought I must've been mistaken in thinking perhaps you had feelings for me as well."

Molly raised her head to look up at him. "Is that why you told me your reason for coming no longer existed? Because you thought I didn't care for you after all?"

He nodded. "Yes. I just wanted to go home and lick my wounds and forget about you." His lips quirked. "Unfortunately, my plans were derailed when John decided on this little party and insisted you be invited."

Molly sighed happily. "Guess we'll have to thank him for that."

"Indeed." He dipped his head to give her another lingering kiss that excited her, this time moving his mouth afterwards to kiss the hollowed indentation beneath her ear. "Now tell me-" his voice was husky, and he placed his lips close to her ear, "-when you decided to break things off with that other man."

Molly turned slightly so she could place her hands around Sherlock's neck and toy with his curls in a way she had always wanted to do as she spoke. "It was when you were talking to that poor woman whose stepfather was posing as her online boyfriend. You were so kind to her, and when you looked over at me and talked about how she thought he was the love of her life, that was when I knew once and for all that _you _were the love of _my _life. I knew then I couldn't marry Tom, even if you never felt the same way about me. He deserved someone who could love him with her whole heart, and mine already belonged to you. Then, while you were busy collecting that hat to return to the train guy, I took off my engagement ring and put it in my pocket."

"Ah, that explains the lack of a ring. I thought perhaps my powers of observation were slipping." Then he grimaced. "Although that was still apparently the case, if you were wearing the ring until that point. You were wearing your gloves when you arrived at my flat, but not during the client consultations."

"I guess it was quite a shock for you to find out I had been engaged when you came to my place." Molly bit her lip.

Sherlock traced a gentle finger over it. "It was rather an unpleasant one, I'll admit."

Molly's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly and Sherlock grinned at her when she blushed. "How about we go out and get that dinner now that you wanted the other day?" he suggested, and her breath caught at his next words. "We have a lifetime together to plan."

Reluctantly, Molly got off his lap and stood, reaching her hands out to help him up as well. "So," she said, looking up at him, "what do you think John will say when we tell him we're together?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and her heart leapt at what he said next. "Oh, I think he will be extremely surprised, but even more so when I beat him to the altar."

Molly put her hands on her hips and gave him a mock frown. "Well, if that's your way of proposing to me, Sherlock Holmes, I think you'll have to do a lot better."

"Don't worry," he said, and his tone was serious, "when the time is right I'll do it properly. I'm just making my intentions clear for now so you don't get any ideas about leaving me for anyone else." She thrilled at the promise in his words.

Molly reached out to pull his head down towards her. "Never gonna happen, Sherlock. I'm yours, always, always."

Their lips met once more in a sizzling kiss filled with anticipation of future happiness. Finally, she was with the right man, and she knew it.

Holding hands, they left the flat to have dinner and make plans for their future together.

* * *

**Author's note: ** So, now you can see what Sherlock had been planning when he went to visit. Did you see the other little piece of canon I inserted from _The Sound of Music_? Show me how clever you are and point it out Hint: it is one of Molly's lines.

It always does my heart good to think of Sherlock and Molly getting together at this point. If that had happened, I feel none of the traumatic events with Magnussen would have happened as Molly would have been by Sherlock's side to figure out how to deal with it. Perhaps Mary's dark past would have remained hidden and she could have been happy with John. So many possibilities!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little story and are willing to share your thoughts about it with me. If you also read _From Revelations to Celebrations,_ which story did you prefer? Do you enjoy reading Sherlock's POV or Molly's more?

Until next time!

**GoodShipSherlollipop**


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